


Spam Mail

by valathe



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Crack, F/F, Jaina Needs a Nap, Let Jaina top 2K19, Modern AU, Sylvanas is a little shit, absolute shitposting, is it okay for hot people to be evil, letting me learn to write was a mistake, stereotypes ahoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valathe/pseuds/valathe
Summary: Sylvanas goes through her spam folder and stumbles across a familiar face. Shenanigans ensue.





	Spam Mail

**Author's Note:**

> a friend demanded a good-night story, so i read her some stuff from my spam folder. things just went downhill from there ~~what am i doing with my life pls help me ;_;~~  
>  also some [mood music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8m2BYv02Nw) for this

Sylvanas pinched the bridge of her nose while letting out a long-suffering sigh. What was the point in having a spam folder if you needed to manually check every e-mail before deleting them anyway? And how could Alina _possibly_ deal with the horrible tedium and occasional stark bewilderment? She should never have allowed her secretary to take the week off.

Blowing some wayward strands of hair out of her face she went back to work. Most of the unwanted mails were quite obvious, at least. They’d have very explicit subject lines or suggestive images attached; and since Sylvanas hadn’t yet figured out how to disable the auto-preview of pictures in the e-mail software they used, she’d already seen her fair share of bare butts and barely-concealed tits.

_‘No, I won’t be needing that cheap Cialis, thank you very much, `_ she thought as she clicked on the delete button with maybe a little too much force _, ‘and I_ definitely _don’t want to meet you, Ludmila.’_

She paused before deleting _that_ e-mail, though, since the small preview image caught her attention. That particular hair color, in that particular braid, looked very familiar. Giving a closer look, there was no doubt: apparently Jaina Proudmoore had changed her name to Ludmila.

And that was something worth investigating. _‘What have you been up to, oh wife of mine?’_ she thought with a smirk as she read through the Google-translated message.

>Hey gentleman Please do not be surprised to my mail. I’m finding a man for a relation and spend time together.<

_‘Why, Jaina, I thought you didn’t like men.’_

> I like to dream and be thrilled of life. I love to spend recreation in interesting society. I am joyful, durable girl.<

Sylvanas couldn’t stop her snickering. ‘Very _durable, indeed._ ’

>But in my heart right now is ice. I want to find a man who defrost the void.<

_‘Ice in your heart, dearest? Well, that cannot stand.’_

She pushed a few more buttons and then powered off her computer. It was Friday, so it probably wouldn’t hurt to leave a bit early. Besides, she needed some time before Jaina got home. There were supplies she had to buy, and things to arrange. She shrugged into her blazer and stalked off to the elevators, going down to the parking garage. Windrunner Industries could run without her for a few hours.

Xxx

When Jaina finally shouldered through the door she was greeted by the strangest music. She had no idea what it was, but it sounded Eastern European. And what was that smell? _‘Is that…beetroot?’_ She almost didn’t see the matryoshka doll that had appeared on the shoe cabinet.

_‘What’s gotten into her now?’_ she thought with an eyeroll.

“What is going on here?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen, seeing Sylvanas tend to a steaming pot that seemed to be the source of the beetroot smell.

“Privet, tovarishch!” Sylvanas almost yelled in reply, “You’re finally home moya dorogaya Lyudmila.”

Jaina took in the scene, stunned into silence. A supremely tacky statue of a bear stood on the windowsill while the table was covered with the ugliest knitted tablecloth she had ever seen; and why was the clock above the door suddenly shaped like a hammer and sickle?!

She finally looked at Sylvanas who tried her best to look perfectly innocent, but the mischievous smirk wouldn’t be contained. That made her find her voice again.

“ _One_ of us has finally lost it, and I hope it’s me and I’m hallucinating.”

Sylvanas merely giggled in reply and ushered her to the table, pushing her into a chair. “You came at the perfect time, dinner is ready.” she said with a lopsided smirk, and retrieved the pot from the stove.

“What is this?” Jaina asked upon seeing the creamy red soup with chunks of more red that Sylvanas spooned into her plate.

“Borscht.” her wife merely replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She helped herself to a generous serving and sat down, spoon already in hand.

“Eat.” she said when she saw Jaina hadn’t moved a muscle since sitting down. “I worked hard on this, and you better appreciate it.”

As if to demonstrate she shoved a spoonful of the Borscht into her mouth – and froze. Sylvanas had an impressive poker face, but Jaina knew all of her tells. Like the way her long ears started to droop ever so slightly. That finally got a smirk out of her.

“Is something the matter, dear?” she asked, finally grabbing the spoon but not eating yet.

Sylvanas swallowed audibly and looked at her, forcing a smile. “Everything’s peachy.”

She brought a second spoonful to her mouth, and for the briefest of moments Jaina saw how her lips curled in disgust. But still, ever tenacious, Sylvanas soldiered on and pretended to like whatever it was she’d cooked. Curiosity finally winning out Jaina dipped her spoon in the soup and slurped a little bit, immediately overwhelmed by the sour taste. And she didn’t hold back.

“Ew, what did you do to those poor beets?”

Sylvanas did her best to look put-upon, but Jaina could tell she was secretly relieved about not having to eat any more of the Borscht.

Getting her to admit that she didn’t like the taste was a fruitless endeavor, so Jaina finally demanded some answers.

“Will you please tell me what’s going on?”

At that Sylvanas’ smirk returned, and she fished her phone out of pocket. She shoved the device into Jaina’s hands and urged her to read the email she had forwarded to her private account.

Jaina finished reading and looked at Sylvanas in bewilderment.

“Look at the attached image.” the elf said, and finally couldn’t hold back her bellowing laughter when Jaina’s eyes almost bugged out of her head.

“You never told me of your Russian heritage, Ludmila.” she managed to wheeze out between laughs.

Jaina waited for Sylvanas to calm down a bit, and then very deliberately put the phone back on the ugly tablecloth. “You mean to tell me,” she started, voice completely even, “that you went through all of this because of a _spam e-mail_?”

“Uh-huh.” was Sylvanas’ only reply, not even bothering to hide her shit-eating grin.

Jaina dragged a hand down her face with a groan. “Remind me why I put up with you again?” she murmured, though she was sure her wife could hear the smile in her voice.

“Because you love me.” Sylvanas simply answered, and was rewarded with a soft smile.

“Guess I’m stuck with you.” Jaina said, though her hand tangled with her wife’s. “We should probably do something about these people using my picture, though.”

“Probably.” Sylvanas replied, though that mischievous twinkle was suddenly back in her eyes. “Before that, though…do you want to prove just how _durable_ you are?”

Jaina rolled her eyes so hard she was afraid they’d get stuck, but got up nonetheless and dragged her wife towards the bedroom.

The Russian folk music still playing in the living room couldn’t drown out the shrieked “You replaced our comforter with a _Soviet flag_?!”

**Author's Note:**

> and then they ~~fucked~~ abolished capitalism ( ͡° ͜ ʖ ͡°)


End file.
